Balancing Equality
Week 17 of 2024 was spent musically presenting the journey towards equal pay in the UK – with varying success…
To see how Sam Pepys spent this week 364 years ago, follow this link.
By the end of Sunday 21 April, the cast and crew of Made in Dagenham were leaving their technical rehearsal at the ADC Theatre Cambridge knowing – knowing – that we had a powerful, energetic, skilful show to perform six times over the following week.
It had to be good – and not just because all six performances were sold out. This was a show about one of the most important issues of our time: equality.
Equality is, in essence, a recognition that every human being enters this world as innocent as every other, and should therefore be equally entitled in the eyes of everyone else. If we failed to perform our best for this show, it’d be like disrespecting humanity.
Fortunately, the Monday dress rehearsal confirmed our opinion from Sunday: our combination of performers, musicians, and backstage staff would make this show a surefire hit.
All we needed now was to remember everything we’d rehearsed…
Opening night
This was not the show we’d rehearsed.
There were quite a few moments in which only one actor seemed to know all their lines and cues. In a key scene in Act One, that actor was me. I improvised as best I could to rescue the others when possible, but in some cases it would’ve been out of character to do so.
The result was a show peppered by awkward pauses.
During the interval, someone noticed my head mic popping out. It seemed we had plenty of time, so I sat with our Head of Hair who tried to hide it – but then I suddenly heard the sound of a helicopter coming from the stage.
That was the sound that Act 2 had begun – and I should have been onstage.
The tannoy to let us know when to take our places had been hidden by the dressing room chatter, and no-one at stage level thought to check where I was.
I raced up, and arrived just in time for my line – but the lights were already up, making my lateness visible from every seat in the house.
If any of the above affected the audience in any way, though, they didn’t show it. Their applause was raucous, and we had a standing ovation from the full house. Among them was Mummy Rose, who told me afterwards that it was the best show she’d seen me perform with this company.
Since the previous show, the 13th, had been one of her favourite musicals of all time (Grease, with me as Danny), that was saying a lot.
It went to prove: in a well-rehearsed production, the only people who notice the gaffs are those behind the curtain. We could be proud of ourselves.
But we could also be better.
Second Night
And we were.
Wednesday was amazing. The tech team arranged a bell system to replace the barely audible tannoy, so no-one missed their entrance. No-one missed a cue. No-one forgot a line.
Compared to Tuesday night, the audience weren’t as loud, and not as many stood up to applaud. But as far as we were concerned, the show had reached perfection.
We now just had to keep it there – and most of us did.
Third Night
But not me. If I came across as pompous by recounting my rescue of that Act One scene above, I was about to get my come-uppance.
At one point, I realised I wasn’t wearing my tie. I rushed down to the dressing room to fetch it – but had completely misjudged the time I had to do so.
My fellow actors were left desperately hanging on for my appearance. There wasn’t anything they could do to rescue the situation even if they wanted to: that scene was in the middle of a musical number, so there was no leeway for improvisation…
That gaff hit me hard, not least because this was the show that Ermma came to see. My own wife, and she was seeing my worst performance so far.
I couldn’t shake that mood, and I’m sure it affected my later scenes. I also gathered a general sense among the cast that things weren’t going their best…
Afterward, though, Ermma thought it had been brilliant. As Head of Make-up, she knew the show, yet she hadn’t noticed any of the gaffs – even those pauses that had, to us, felt like they’d doubled the duration.
The pendulum was swinging away from perfection – but again, only in our eyes…
Final Nights
The remainder of the run went more or less like opening night. New mistakes crept in each show, but no mistake was made more than once – and, for the final three, we were again bowing to an almost fully standing audience.
The Equal Pay Act 1970 that ultimately resulted from the Dagenham strikes was not the end of the story. Even today, women aren’t always offered the same pay for doing the exact same job as men, and misogyny continues to dehumanise women in various cultures across the world – including our so-called ‘developed’ west.
In a way, our run was an example of how achievements can be made. We continued to make mistakes, sure – but we learned from each one, supported each other to dampen any damage, and made certain every member of every audience enjoyed being there.
It helps to have a bit of luck though. For us, that was the reviewers attending… on the second night. $;-)
“Congratulations to everyone involved with this lively, bawdy, boisterous, thought-provoking gem of a show. I loved it.”
👆 Julie Petrucci, reviewing for the National Operative and Dramatic Association
“The whole show has been brought together in a huge bundle of energy, talent and joy which was a delight to experience. The show had a well-deserved standing ovation by an audience who had had their socks knocked off!”
👆 Berenice Mann, reviewing for Backstage View
In return for the smiles these words gave you, please send them to a friend!
You’ll then get two bonus smiles: one for bringing joy to your friend, and one for my mahoosive gratitude. $:-D
One of the things that strikes me about this, too, is that the shows had an equality about them--each one flawed in its own way, but none of that mattered to the receivers of your gifts as a company--each time you got a great response. So the metaphor works all around!